


happy

by jaimelanniser



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimelanniser/pseuds/jaimelanniser
Summary: A short fic featuring Gendry/Arya as Remus/Tonks





	happy

“You  _see?_ ” Arya hissed, glaring over at Gendry, her hand outstretched towards Sansa’s tall frame hovering over Jon’s sleeping form on the bed. “She still wants to marry him, even though he’s been bitten! She doesn’t care!”

It had been enough months of this torturous debate between them that even as Arya spoke the words, she knew that this instance would not be enough to convince him. Gendry was too full of a lifetime of self-denial and reclusion to open his eyes – his heart – to her.

It made her want to scream.

Gendry’s back went rigid, as if acutely aware of the presence of everybody else in the room. “It’s different. Jon will not be a full werewolf, the cases are completely –”

“But I don’t care, either, I don’t care!” Arya turned around to grip the front of Gendry’s robes in her hands, shaking them as she made him look at her. “I’ve told you a million times…”

The rest of the people in the room had respectfully turned away from them, busying themselves with some task or the other, and Gendry’s blue eyes met hers, steady and unyielding in their resolve, a stubbornness that was as exasperating as it was endearing.

He shook his head at her and tore his eyes away like he couldn’t bear looking at her. “And I’ve told  _you_  a million times, that I am too old for you, too poor… too dangerous…”

What did that  _matter?_  As if any of it mattered at all, when they were in the middle of a war, when there was so much at stake. Arya wanted to rip her hair out in frustration.

Quietly, Davos spoke up from behind them. “I’ve said all along you’re taking a ridiculous line on this, Gendry.”

Arya’s eyebrows shot up as she pointed at Davos, still staring at Gendry, her heart hammering in her chest. Even though she knew he was beyond reason, at this point, there was a small part of her that still hoped something,  _something_  might change his mind.

His voice was unwavering. “I am not being ridiculous. Arya deserves someone young and whole.”

“But she wants you,” Davos cut in, those warm eyes of his settling on Gendry. “And after all, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.” He gestured at Jon’s body on the bed, marred with the cuts from the werewolf’s claws.

Gendry cleared his throat, looked away from Jon and busied himself with picking at his sleeves. “This is… not the moment to discuss it. Ned Stark is dead…”

“Father,” Sansa spoke up for the first time since her outburst at Daenerys earlier, not taking her eyes away from Jon. “Would have been happier than anybody to think there was a little more love in the world.”

Arya could have kissed her, but she didn’t, as a silence settled over all of them. Gendry was avoiding her eyes, and she let out a sharp breath before turning and exiting the room.

She could hear Davos say “Go after her,” and her stomach churned at the thought that Gendry wouldn’t.

But he did, catching up to her as she reached the back yard of the Winterfell manor, breath huffing out of him while his fingers clasped around her wrist to get her to stop.

She whirled around to face him, defiant so she didn’t let herself hope only to be shot down again. There was only so much of this she could take, after all. “Well?”

Gendry let go off her hand, then, looking around before settling back to her. Every second seemed painful to him, like he was fighting a battle within himself. “You’ll be looked down upon,” he muttered, his eyes on the floor between them. “People will talk. Your friends might–”

“My real friends don’t care. Anyone else can go fuck themselves,” she shot back, standing up a little taller. “Gendry, I don’t  _care_  about anyone else. I want  _you_. I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t  _have_  to…” His voice sounded pained. Arya took a breath and lifted a hand up to his cheek, cold, even though he’d just been inside.

“I know you love me,” she told him, meeting his eyes, holding the gaze as long as she had it. “I know you think you’re not enough, but you  _are_ , you stupid man.”

He cracked a smile, and Arya felt a little closer to victory. She placed her other hand on his other cheek, holding his face there. “Let me be happy with you,” she whispered, the words hanging in the winter air between them.

Gendry shut his eyes when he couldn’t turn his face, even as his hands settled softly on the small of her back. “Promise me,” he finally said, quietly, opening his eyes to look at her, fear etched on his every feature. “Promise me you’ll leave if it’s too much.”

Arya wanted to scream that it would never be too much, that it would always be  _enough_  for her, just right, as long as she had him. But she gave him this, a nod, and a smile. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she declared, as Gendry laughed softly.

And she did.


End file.
